


The Fire in Us

by The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff



Series: Fire-verse [8]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Family, Fire Magic, I have no idea what I'm doing, I haven't written fiction in 84 years, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Simon Snow Gets His Magic Back, Some Fluff, Some Humor, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-10-22 04:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff
Summary: Set a tad post-canon (a tad being about 28 years, give or take). Simon & Baz's twin teenagers have just finished their fifth year at Watford & the family makes their annual summer visit to Hampshire. There's something odd about the place, though, & this trip might just end in flames."The magic returned to Hampshire a long time ago, & so did the Grimms (Granddad & his family). I can really feel the fire in me there. Something about ancestral ground & all that.I'm not talking in metaphors, either. I've got a literal fire inside me. I come from two long lines of fire mages - the Pitches & the Grimms - & when we go there I can feel the fire trying to burn its way out of me, sometimes. My feet start to feel like I've gone for a really long walk, like there's only a  thin layer between them & a bed of hot embers. & when I can really reach down deep & harness that power...Crowley, it feels like I could conquer the world."Updates are currently sporadic as I had no idea I'd be writing a series when I first started & I want to avoid retconning as much as possible! Thanks for your patience 💜





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, some disclaimers because I have a few...
> 
> I read Carry On (well, listened to the audiobook) for the first (and second) time last month and I haven't been able to get Simon and Baz out of my head since. Then one day I started thinking about them with their teenage kids and this is what happened. 
> 
> I haven't written a lick of fiction in years, and I think this is my first foray into fanfiction in about 15 years? Long story short, I'm rusty as hell. If hell is rusty, IDK. 
> 
> I have no idea if this will turn into a larger story with a plot or if it'll just be little ficlets. There's lots of little scenes in my head but not currently anything that could be made into a consistent storyline, so we'll see. (EDIT - Alright, I've got a story now. So hopefully it's not terrible.)
> 
> Also I've always been terrible with titles. 
> 
> Also, I'm not British, so I apologize in advance for any errors in the dialect, etc. 
> 
> I *think* that's all I've got for now. Hope you enjoy. :D

“Baz!” Dad calls out from my parents’ bedroom on the first morning of summer holiday. Then suddenly he's stood in front of us all - Daddy, Ty, and me - at breakfast wearing nothing but his pants and an incredulous stare.

 

Daddy looks up from the paper he's been grading and quirks an eyebrow. He gestures at Dad with his pen and says, “You're wearing my pants.”

 

“They made it into my drawer somehow, yeah. But the real question here is  _ how do you wear these _ ?”

 

Daddy glances down in what becomes a curt nod. “You seem to have the hang of it. What are you getting at, Snow?” He still calls Dad that sometimes, even after all these years. He says it's  _ ingrained.  _ Dad likes it anyhow, I think. I think he thinks of it as flirting, which it probably is.

 

“They haven't got a dick hole.” And there it is, the crux of the matter. 

 

Daddy lets out an exasperated sigh and drops his eyes to his paper again. “Wonderful topic of conversation for breakfast, love-”

 

“I've already eaten-”

 

“Now go put some clothes on; you're traumatizing the children.”

 

I sneak a glance at Ty, who blinks a few times while he chews his toast - open-mouthed but still managing to smirk, somehow - before looking at me. Sat there with a messy tawny bun, mouth full of toast and eyes full of sleep, he doesn't look the least bit traumatized. He shrugs and I can't help but smile. 

 

It's always good to know that nothing's changed around here while we've been away at school.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks so much for the love on the last bit. I'm super excited about this; got some ideas kicking around in my noggin. And so we continue. This bit's mostly exposition so we should be kicking off with an actual story in chapter 3. ;]

**LUCILLE**

 

Ty & I have just finished our fifth year at Watford. It’s wonderful there - magickal, of course - but there’s just something about coming home. It’s the smell of Dad’s scones baking in the oven - all the bloody time, because scones are _always_ in the oven at our house. (Not that I’m complaining.) It’s the smell of cedar & bergamot - Daddy’s shampoo, I think; Dad says it’s what their dorm at Watford used to smell like back when they were students. It’s the comfort of a lovely memory foam mattress with like three blankets on to make myself a nest. It’s hearing Ty clunk around like a numpty because we live in closer quarters at home. (Watford’s got separate dorms for boys & girls.)

 

I suppose it’s good to have some space away from Ty while we’re at school, but it’s not like we hate each other or anything. We’ve always been close, Ty & me. All four of us, really, but Ty & me especially. We’re twins, see, so we’ve never even had an age gap unless you count emotional intelligence.

 

It’s always a right pain in the arse explaining the twin thing to people. We look absolutely nothing alike, after all, but the kind of twins we are is weird rare & I don’t think it’s something that most people even realize is possible. The fancy-schmancy scientific term is _heteropaternal superfecundation_ \- Daddy likes to joke that it’s the only hetero thing he’s ever done.

 

I look like him (well, for the most part). My Auntie Fiona says I’m the spitting image of her sister (Daddy’s mum). I’ve even got her name (well, it’s my middle name - I’m Lucille Natasha Pitch, though everyone just calls me Luci). I’ve got grey eyes & black hair; I’ve actually just gotten it cut into this cute pixie, so I guess maybe I’m not _exactly_ the spitting image of my grandmother anymore since she always had long hair. (I’ve been wanting to chop it off for a while, but it’s a big commitment!) I’ve got olive-toned skin; our family comes from Egypt, see. Daddy doesn’t have the olive skin tone, though. Well, he used to. A long time ago, when he was little. He’s got a condition that makes his skin pale.

 

Actually, my dads didn’t even know if Daddy _could_ have kids (on account of his condition). But when the time came & they decided they wanted a family, they both gave sperm because they didn’t want to choose one over the other to be the biological father. They left it up to fate, & lo & behold, our surrogate mother popped out two kids, one for each of them. It’s a super rare phenomenon & honestly we all think at least a little magick was involved. We’re mages, after all; miracles can happen.

 

Ty looks like Dad, of course - blue eyes, freckled tawny skin, & curly bronze hair. He’s got this man bun now that he is _super_ proud of (Dad hasn’t got one of those, though sometimes Daddy will pull his own up). Ty’s been growing his hair out forever, it seems. It’s cute, I suppose, though I must say that I’m not sure I’ll ever grow my own back out now that I’ve experienced short-haired freedom. (Much less fuss,  much less annoyance.)

 

Ty can _eat_ like Dad, too, though he does have a decent amount of muscle to maintain. (He needs his nutrients. He plays football at Watford, to Daddy’s absolute delight.)

 

He might’ve gotten Dad’s looks & metabolism, but Ty has Daddy’s name. He’s called Tyrannus Malcolm Pitch, though no one ever calls him Tyrannus unless he’s in deep shit. (He doesn’t usually get into deep enough shit to warrant a three-syllable effort.) Tyrannus is Daddy’s first name, too - it’s a Pitch family name - though no one ever calls him that, either. Most people call him Baz, though Granddad calls him Basilton. (Granddad is _always_ in the mood for all the syllables. But he won’t even call Ty by his full name. Daddy says Granddad’s never liked the name Tyrannus, though he’s happy enough with Ty’s middle name. Granddad’s name is Malcolm, see. Daddy says Granddad cried at our naming ceremony.)    

 

I suppose if we’re throwing out names I should give Dad’s as well. He’s Simon. He used to be Simon Snow (most people know him as The Chosen One, or the Mage’s Heir, or one of those other silly titles thrust upon him by a desperate society). Eventually he found out that “Snow” is actually his middle name, so he’s been Simon Snow Pitch ever since he & Daddy tied the knot. (I guess that’d be, what, about 20 years ago now? Damn, that’s longer than I’ve been _alive._ ) His family history is pretty weird, honestly. Long story short - he grew up in care homes because his mother died after giving birth & his father was an absolute twat.

 

What kind of father gives their kid up only to name him his heir later - without telling the kid he’s his son - & _uses_ him as a weapon of mass destruction?! Yeah, my grandfather was _that Mage._ I can’t even pretend to not be associated with him on account of biology, because the fool literally sent vampires to a _school for children_ to kill my biological grandmother - Daddy’s mum. You know, the one I look like. She was the Mage & headmistress at Watford before Dad’s father became Mage & headmaster, & he only got those jobs because he had her killed, really. Are you following along still? Because I barely am. Crowley, retelling the story now makes me realize how truly fucked up our family history really is.

 

Well, our history may be absolutely bonkers, but we’re a happy family, really. I don’t know how _normal_ we are, but we’re happy. Ty & I grew up on Disney, Shakespeare (our dads are joined together by like, three or four sonnets or something), old Vine compilations, & baked goods. Dad’s baking scones right now, actually. We’re headed to our grandparents’ home in Hampshire tomorrow (we always spend a few days there after the end of term) & he’s been baking up a storm since late afternoon. We always come prepared to family gatherings with a mountain of scones. I think maybe he did it in the early days after he & Daddy got together as a coping mechanism (their relationship got off to kind of a weird start with a pinch of contention; accidentally sucking the magic from your future in-laws’ land will do that), & at this point it’s just habit.

 

Well, the magic returned to Hampshire a long time ago, & so did the Grimms (Granddad & his family). I can really feel the fire in me there. Something about ancestral ground & all that.

 

I'm not talking in metaphors, either. I've got a literal fire inside me. I come from two long lines of fire mages - the Pitches & the Grimms - & when we go there I can feel the fire trying to burn its way out of me, sometimes. My feet start to feel like I've gone for a really long walk, like there's only a  thin layer between them & a bed of hot embers. & when I can really reach down deep & harness that power...Crowley, it feels like I could conquer the world.

 

There’s a quick double-rap on my door & then it opens & Ty pops in with a plate full of fresh scones. (He’s really awful at the whole “knock before you come in” thing, so I’ll lock the door if I really need privacy.)

 

“Hey,” he says, jumping up on the bed & sitting cross-legged across from me in one surprisingly swift movement.

 

I reach out to grab a scone & am disappointed to find that they’ve cooled. “How many of these did you eat downstairs?” Because surely distraction’s the reason for the delay in delivery.

 

He gives a signature Ty shrug & then suddenly flames are licking the bottom of the plate without a word. Because Ty’s got the fire in him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go ahead & start a Tumblr. Not sure how active I'll be over there considering I have a full-time job & a fledgling business, but I'll definitely be reblogging stuff I like so why the heck not.
> 
>  
> 
> [The Honeyed Hufflepuff](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normal road trip talk.

**LUCILLE**

 

“I’ve got your life juice, Pops,” Ty says as he lugs two coolers down the drive (they’re magicked to stay cold; much less hassle than ice). “Where d’you want ‘em?” 

“One in the boot & one in the backseat, if you would,” Daddy says. He’s at the rear of the car attempting to shove a trunk farther into the boot & it doesn’t look like he’s making much progress. “Lucille, what in Crowley's name have you got packed in this damn thing? You realize we’ll only be gone a week?”

Considering I'm stood next to him with my own trunk (smaller than his, I might add) I just say, “That's yours, you know. I've downsized.” I take the cooler Ty hands me & set it down next to Daddy's trunk inside the boot. “What've you got? Seven pairs of jeans? You can rewear them, you know.”

“Yeah, I've gone like, at least a month with one pair,” Ty quips from the backseat as he arranges the other cooler.

Daddy closes his eyes in apparent exasperation before turning to me & staring straight into my soul. “Where you get your sass I'll never know.” 

I lift my trunk in & shove it to the back of the boot. “Perhaps you should look a little closer at the mirror.” & with that said I clap him on the shoulder & climb into the backseat. 

 

>>>

 

“So now, the obligatory question: How was school? Don't answer all at once,” Daddy says from the front. He's driving (he always drives) & Dad's fiddling with Google Maps (more for traffic than directions) because it’s lost service. “Fucking hell,” he murmurs. 

“Well, I for one haven't fucked nor fought with my roommate as of yet, so all in all it was a successf-,”

“Tyrannus Malcolm,” Daddy starts while Dad nearly spits out his coffee on a laugh. Then he starts coughing violently & Daddy slugs him in the back with one hand while he keeps the other on the wheel & his eyes on the road. In the rearview I can see the hint of a smile on Daddy's face. He isn't mad,  _ not really _ , but if Ty accidentally talks like that around Granddad he may legitimately have a heart attack. 

I smack Ty on the arm. “You absolute numpty,” I say, but I’m not sure he hears me over his own laughter. Ty is an incredible amusement to himself. Apparently he’s an amusement to Dad, too, because Dad’s turned around in his seat to face us & I swear to Crowley I can see an actual  _ twinkle  _ in his eye. Also tears, whether from coughing or laughing I’m not sure. 

“You’re an absolute nightmare, is what you are,” Daddy says. 

“How  _ is  _ what’s-his-name?” Dad asks Ty. 

“Who, Ricky? Same old, I guess. Don’t worry, I’m still ahead of him with my marks.” Broderick’s Ty’s roommate. He’s part pixie or something. His mums went to school with our dads & our godmother Penny. Ty says it can be nice to room with someone who also has same-sex parents (less questions) but that the pixie dust can be annoying. 

“As well you should. No son of mine will come in second to Trixie the Pixie's kid,” Daddy says, then with a snort he repeats, “Trixie the Pixie, fucking hell.”

“Daddy, that's speciesist,” I say.

“Ricky's a good bloke. Though the dust  _ is  _ a bother,” Ty says.

He flinches away from me when I reach over & ruffle his hair. “I think you've got some in your man bun, just there.”

“You're just jealous that your hair was never so luscious & never will be.” I smack him again. “Oh, Pops, old Possibelf did say something about wanting you to give a guest lecture on sonnets to the seventh years or something. Said she'd email you because I'd probably forget.”

“She also told me because she knew I  _ wouldn't.  _ & it's for the sixth & seventh years both,” I say. I don't mention the obvious - that  _ we’ll  _ be sixth years & it'll be totally weird to have our father lecturing about love sonnets & their  _ application _ . I believe I’m going to spend the rest of the summer pointedly not thinking about it. It’s bad enough that all my friends love to tell me how fit my dads are; I can’t imagine what kind of fire a lecture like that’ll spark. Merlin, Morgana, & Methuselah  _ please  _ help me now. 

“Do you hear that, Dr. Pitch? Possibelf wants  _ you  _ to lecture  _ her  _ class.” An outsider might interpret the way Dad says that as a jab, but I can see the pride in his eyes as he glances over at Daddy. Also he’s finally abandoned his mobile & laced their fingers together. He turns slightly to look at me again. “What about you, Luci love? What’ve you got to report?” 

I can think of a few smartarse remarks. I  _ could  _ say that I’ve fucked  _ my  _ roommate; that’d be funny but untrue. “Marks are good, you’ve seen them. Oh! I forgot to tell you that the last merwolf in the moat died of natural causes last week.”

“Thank Crowley for that,” Daddy mumbles. 

Dad snorts. “This conversation’s full of good news for you, it seems.” He nudges Daddy in the side the best he can without actually letting go of his hand. 

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “Ty, pass us a jar, would you?” 

Ty reaches down to the cooler & pulls out a mason jar filled with blood. He passes it from hand to hand for a moment, warming the outside so it won’t crack when he says, “ **You’re getting warmer.** ” He hands the warmed up jar to Dad, who lets go of Daddy’s hand to unscrew the lid. He hands it over, & Daddy gulps it down in  _ one, two, three  _ swallows. In the rearview, his cheeks are swollen with fangs.   


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family arrives at The Gothic Mansion™. Simon reflects.

**SIMON**

 

This place still gives me the heebie-jeebies, even after all these years. I’ve never told Baz as much, but I don’t think I have to. (Either the result of knowing each other so well or maybe vampires have spidey senses. Vampy senses? I don't know but he's been squeezing my thigh reassuringly for the last five minutes as we get closer to The Gothic Mansion™.) 

It’s not even one thing, not really. My old therapist used to say that the place triggered my PTSD, coming back here & remembering how the bloody Humdrum lured Baz into the woods & how together we sucked the magic out of the place. How for a long time I could barely look Malcolm Grimm in the eye because I'd stolen both his magic & his son.

She was probably right, honestly, but I still like to blame it on the wraiths & those fucking gargoyles all over Baz's old bed. She probably would've called that a  _ coping mechanism _ . 

Malcolm doesn't scare me anymore (at least not any more than a father-in-law should, I think), even though I  _ did  _ do that dirty dance to Lady Gaga's  _ Teeth  _ at the wedding & just about gave him a seizure. (I still sometimes wonder what traumatized him more: my dancing or the fact that Mordelia was right there with me. Oh,  _ Crowley on a cracker,  _ Mordelia would’ve been Luci’s age at the time. Now I understand. It's a wonder the man doesn't think I've corrupted his entire family. Though to be fair, I  _ was  _ completely sozzled. In any case, naming Ty after him probably helped.)

We've rolled into the massive drive now. Baz puts the car in park, closes his eyes, & inhales. I can almost taste his excitement at the idea of being able to hunt out here. There isn’t much of a market for deer hunting in London. He doesn’t actually hunt much nowadays. We’ve been getting blood from the butcher’s for years now, & occasionally,  _ well.  _ Let’s just say that sometimes if I’m feeling particularly kinky I’ll let him...hunt me, so to speak. The idea that vampirism is transmitted by the bite alone is absolute bollocks, so. Anyway.

There's a rap on my window that makes me jump. Luci's staring in at me, waving like  _ let's get a move on.  _ I don't know if I'll ever stop being amazed at that look on her face; she's Baz in female form & the likeness is only more uncanny as she gets older. Well, the hair's shorter than her father's in any case. I don't think I've ever known Baz with short hair.

I reach down to grab the massive Pyrex dish full of scones at my feet, & then I open the door.

 

>>>

**TYRANNUS**

I'm the first to the door & Nana must've seen us pull up because she opens it before I even have a chance to knock. She smiles & pulls me in before stepping back & taking a good long look at me. Her hands smooth over my shoulders & she sighs.

“ _ Stop  _ growing, would you, love?” 

“I wouldn't mind another inch or two,” I say. I'm 5’10” now; just give me those extra 2”. At what age do people stop growing? I'm already 16; it may be all over for me at this point. Ah, well.

“Oh, you've brought your guitar. Good; you can serenade me later,” Nana says.

“Sure, Nana,” I say & kiss her on the cheek, though something tells me she wouldn't appreciate the metal stuff I've been practicing. I step into the house when I hear Luci coming in for the kill behind me. 

“Nana!” she shouts, & when I glance over my shoulder they're hugging & swaying together like we didn't just see each other at Christmas. The last thing I overhear as I head for the stairs is Nana fawning over Luci's new haircut. 

This house is massive & weird & creepy & I  _ do  _ love visiting. Not everyone has a literal haunted mansion in the family. At the same time, though, I’ve noticed over the last few years that I feel... _ weird  _ when we come here _.  _ I’m easily irritated, & it starts to feel like something’s trying to break its way out of me. It makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. I’ve tried taking a nap - that always helps when I’m irritated about something at home or at Watford - but that’s no good here. I brought the guitar along this time; hopefully it’ll help channel some of that energy because I  _ really  _ don’t want to have to deal with the irritability all week. 

There’s something else that helps, too, & I suspect Luci’ll be along any minute to drag me out to the woods to practice. She thinks it’s the magic in this place, that we’re tied to it by blood & that when the magic returned to Hampshire it came back stronger than it was before. Sometimes I have to remind her that  _ I’m  _ not tied here by blood. I may be a Pitch, but I don’t  _ have  _ Pitch blood in me or Grimm blood in me or any of the stuff that makes Luci feel like she could cast an inferno here. 

“You  _ are  _ a Pitch,” she’ll say. “We shared a  _ womb, _ for Crowley’s sake.” It’s always the same argument. I’ve stopped trying, really. 

I prop my guitar down against the wall of the room that’s been mine since we were born before throwing my travel bag & then myself onto the bed. I’m lying there face-down with my feet hanging off the mattress when I  _ sense  _ Luci’s presence in the doorway. Actually I know she’s there because she says, “That good, huh?” We don’t have twin senses or anything. (I don’t think? Though when we do magic together it’s super compatible. It  _ flows.  _ It feels like we can draw from each other. It’s kind of weird, but pretty cool. Probably a good survival skill if we ever find ourselves in a zombie apocalypse.)

“Mmph,” I say into the bedclothes. 

“Come on, it’ll make you feel better.” She’s moseyed over to me & is prodding at my foot with hers. “Nana says Granddad’ll be home soon, & then we’ll be having dinner. Be my guest if you want to feel like shit, but you  _ know  _ it’ll help-,”

“For fuck’s sake, fine. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” I roll onto my back & press the heels of my hands into my eyes. She’s sat next to me now & I can feel her staring at me. I crack an eye open & sigh. “I think it’s worse this time,” I admit. 

She slaps my thigh. “Come on, then.” 

& so we go. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not think I'd get a chance to mention my HC of Simon dirty dancing to Teeth at the wedding, but then I pleasantly surprised myself. 
> 
> [TEETH by Lady Gaga](https://youtu.be/45_kcFwyZTI)
> 
> Also, regarding the guitar - I have this vision that Ty & Luci are very musically inclined? Like I imagine [something like this](https://youtu.be/bDDaqNgdIXM) happening in the Pitch house. (Simon would be Darth Vader, obvs. Actually, Jonathan as Ty is a big fuckin mood.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ty & Luci practice.

**TYRANNUS**

“Which song do you want to do, then?” Luci’s practically humming with excitement as we make our way deeper into the wood. Somewhere along the way, she’s stripped off her shoes & socks to walk barefoot in the soil. I’d tell her she’s going to catch a chill (it’s colder here than it is in London), but if she’s cold she won’t be for very long. “‘Hellfire?’” She says, & it sounds more like a decision than a suggestion.

We’ve stopped in a clearing & she’s stood in front of me now in a wide stance, swaying slightly back & forth. She tilts her face toward the sky & breathes deep.

“Don’t you think that one’s a tad intense to start?” I drop down to sit on a rock & remove my own trainers & socks. The bottoms of my feet feel like they’re crawling with fire ants. My fingers aren’t much better as I untie my shoelaces. The ground here is humming so loudly with magic that I can nearly feel it rattling through me. “Don’t you think we should start with, I don’t know, maybe a few spells?”

Luci’s still swaying in front of me but her grey eyes are focused on mine. She lets out a shaky breath. “It’s stronger now than it was at Christmas,” she says. “You feel it, don’t you?” She’s closed her eyes again & is rolling her neck back & forth, back & forth. Breathing deep.

“I bloody well feel it.” I stand up & brush the dirt from the seat of my jeans. The ground beneath my feet is both soothing & startling, somehow. I walk up to her & she lifts her hands. My palms meet hers, lightly pushing & pulling, & I can _feel_ the hot energy that’s about to burst from her. “‘Hellfire,’ then, if you want. You take the lead.”

Her eyes look slowly back & forth at our hands, at the space between them, before she looks into my eyes & smirks. Then she begins to sing.

 

**LUCILLE**

 

Ty is practically burning up in front of me. I close my eyes, reach down deep inside him, & draw from the well of magic there. Ah, there it is. No wonder he's been feeling shit since we got here. The creases between our touching palms are beginning to smoke. It smells of campfire & brimstone, our magicks twining.

 

**TYRANNUS**

 

Her voice is sensual & rich, an alto, & strangely enough it’s hard to tell where her voice begins & the smoke ends. Our fingers lace & I can feel her probing into me, drawing the magic up & out. It’s not intrusive, not really; it feels as if she’s always been there. & once she’s taken what she needs, she lets go of me & begins to dance to her own music, the smoke rolling from her hands & feet as she spins.

_"I feel her, I see her_

_The sun caught in her raven hair_

_Is blazing in me_

_Out of all control"_

There’s something overtly sexual to the dance. Somehow it always feels that way when we do magic like this. She’s my sister, & I don’t want her, but that doesn’t make her any less mesmerizing. I’ve seen the way the blokes at school look at her, too, as if they’d like to devour her. I don’t want to be _that_ brother, the one who’s overly protective of his pretty sister, but _honestly._ Sometimes I have to hold myself back so I don’t kill a fool.

_"Like fire_

_Hellfire_

_This fire in my skin_

_This burning_

_Desire_

_Is turning me to sin"_

& there it is, the flames pouring from her, following her arc as she spins & twirls around the clearing. ( _This_ is why we needed a clearing in the first place.) They caress her calves & forearms like they’ve missed her, somehow. There’s a pull in my gut that lures me toward her (sort of the same feeling as when the Crucible cast Ricky & me together, only stronger). I feel the flames licking my palms, the bottoms of my feet. It doesn’t burn, but it’s _hot_ , like a dish from the oven that’s _almost_ too hot to touch or a bath full of steaming water just on the edge of what you can handle before you scald.

_"Hellfire_

_Dark fire_

_Now gypsy, it's your turn"_

She beckons me even as she nears me, & it barely registers when our hands join again, wreathed in flame.

_"Choose me or_

_Your pyre_

_Be mine or you will burn"_

I dance with her.

_"But she will be mine or_

_She will burn!"_

& then the flames surround us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Disney movies were *too* prevalent in their childhoods? 
> 
>  
> 
> [Hellfire original](https://youtu.be/-NP-RsRGzVo)
> 
>  
> 
> [Hellfire cover that I imagine sounds a lot like Luci :D ](https://youtu.be/uINqPnR1BNw)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

**LUCILLE**

 

He says his magic has begun to feel like a burden. 

Not at home, & not at school; only here in Hampshire. We lie on our backs in the middle of the clearing. It looks just the same as when we got here, save for the charring that marks the path of our footsteps. The silence between us is comfortable; it always has been. 

“How d’you feel? Better?” I ask, finally. It’s been a few minutes or an hour, I don’t know. 

He inhales deeply & the dead leaves crackle beneath his head as he turns it to face me. “A bit,” he says.

I quirk an eyebrow, because I for one am bloody  _ exhausted.  _ “A bit. A  _ bit _ ?” I roll over & prop myself on my forearm. “A  _ bit,  _ Ty? Aleister  _ Crowley. _ ” 

He sighs & presses his hands into his eyes again. “I’m telling you, it’s getting worse. It’s.” He drops one hand to his side while the other rubs at the stubble on his face. “It doesn’t feel like I can’t control it. Just. I don’t know, it wants  _ out. _ I’m  _ tired _ , but I only feel a little better than earlier. I could probably do another two ‘Hellfire’s on my  _ own _ .” 

I’m skeptical, but only for a second, because then I remember the seemingly endless pool of magic I drew from him as I sang. 

“I think-,” I start.

“ _ Don’t. _ ”

“I  _ think _ ,” I say again, “that we should tell them.” 

“ _ Why _ ?” 

I push myself up to sit cross-legged across from him. I see a hint of an eye roll before he mimics me, shaking his head to get the leaves out of his hair. “Because we  _ don’t know what it is,  _ Ty. You say you can control it-,”

“I  _ can  _ control it.” 

“But what happens if you can’t anymore? What happens then?” 

“It’s not going to be a problem, because it’s  _ not going to happen _ -,”

“I’ll tell you what’ll happen,” I say, agitation welling in me because sometimes my brother, bless him, can be  _ bloody thick.  _ “ _ If  _ you lose control - & I’m not saying you will - but  _ if you do _ ,” I snap my fingers & they release a residual spark, “Daddy goes up in flames.” The very thought makes me sick, but I’ve struck a nerve; I can see it in his face.

“Fucking hell.” Ty cradles his head in his hands for a moment & then violently starts to scratch at his scalp. “Damn it. I don’t  _ get it.  _ Why is it only here? & _ why’s  _ it so bad?” 

I grab his hands; they’re  _ hot _ , still. “Can you try pushing some into me? Maybe I didn’t take enough before.”

“You took just as much as you normally do, but okay.” He’s restless, irritable still. I thought coming out here would help. Hopefully he just needs to let more out. My well of magic, my flame, begins to fill again as Ty focuses on pushing some of his power into me. He pours into me until I’m full to bursting.

“Stop,” I start to say, but he’s already let go of my hands. “Now?” 

He nods & rubs his face again. “Yeah.”

“Listen, I still think we should-,”

“You realize that if we tell them about this they’ll flip their shit, right?” He’s giving me a look like it’s obvious, which it is. Our grandmother killed herself with fire. Our father is  _ flammable.  _ Daddy may be able to conjure a flame, but we’ve never seen him do anything like this. 

“They know we’re powerful, Ty-,”

“ _ Knowing we’re powerful  _ isn’t the bloody same as  _ knowing we can set ourselves on fire while singing & dancing to a Disney song _ ! Crowley, Luci, what the actual  _ fuck  _ are we even doing? I’ve sat through Magickal History same as you; you know bloody well that we aren’t  _ normal. _ ” 

No. No, of course we’re not. If we were  _ normal  _ mages, we wouldn’t be able to share power the way we do. We would need wands or a ring like Penny’s or  _ something  _ to cast. & we wouldn’t be able to set ourselves on fire, no; though I feel like that’s a rather barbaric way to put it, really.

“Look,” he says. “I’m feeling alright now. D’you want to work on something else? Something less, I don’t know, smoky?” 

“Yeah, alright.” I lift myself up off the ground, reaching for his hand so I can drag him with me. Then I hear it, a voice - maybe two? - calling into the wood. It’s too far away to make out at first. 

“How about-,”

“Shh,” I cut Ty off. “Do you hear-?”

“TY! LUCI!” Dad’s voice cuts through the trees; he sounds almost frantic.

“Fuck, come on,” I say, & we’re running toward the sounds of his footfalls, his calling. 

“Simon!” Daddy must be right behind him. 

“LUCI! TY!” 

We round the corner & I collide with Dad in a rush of color. He grabs me around the middle before I can fall & crushes me to him, his breath coming hot & fast against my neck. 

“See, they're alright, love,” I hear Daddy say. I open my eyes & see him standing a few paces away, Ty next to him with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Dad doesn't answer him, just holds me close for a few more moments before pulling back & cradling my face. “Jesus  _ Christ,  _ where have you been?” The worry in his voice is beginning to give way to irritation. 

“I texted you!” I say. “We didn't see you on our way out so I texted you.” I go to reach for my mobile to show him, but then I realize I've left it with my shoes. Our magic does not mix well with technology, not when it's pouring out of us the way it does.

Dad's looking me up & down, inspecting me as if he expects to find something terribly wrong. “I didn’t get a text. You should’ve found us before you went off like that. You’ve been gone a few hours &, well. Where are your shoes?” He’s holding me by the shoulders, talking so fast that it takes me a moment to catch up. 

Then Daddy’s there behind him, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. “Simon,” he says, & Dad lets go of me. Daddy’s nostrils flare slightly & his eyes land on my bare feet. “You’re bleeding.” 

I look down & sure enough, there’s a decent amount of blood pouring from my big toe. I must have stubbed it when Dad & I ran into each other. Now that I’ve actually  _ seen  _ the blood, my toe throbs & I feel a bit woozy. I don’t like blood. 

“Shit,” I say, dropping down to sit & heal myself. 

Dad kneels in front of me. “Let me see.” 

“It’s fine, Dad-,”

“Fuck, Lucille, let me  _ see. _ ” 

“Simon-,” Daddy, this time. He’s stood a few paces away, fangs popped. 

My fucking toe is throbbing & I just want to get rid of the blood, for  _ fuck’s sake,  _ but I can’t focus over the “let me sees,” & the “leave her bes” & damn it, my vision’s blurring. I’m trying to breathe deep. The wound can’t be too big; there’s just a lot of blood because it’s...it’s…

“Luce?” Ty says. He’s sat cross-legged beneath me, my head resting in his lap. His face comes into focus & I see a big, stupid smile on his face. “You big baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“ _ Lucille _ .” Daddy’s fangs must’ve retracted, because he doesn’t lisp my name. Swearing has never been off-limits in our family (well, between the four of us, at least); we swear in front of our parents all the time, but the one rule is that we don’t swear  _ at  _ each other. 

I feel Dad’s hand stroking my face. “Are you alright?” He looks a little wrecked, honestly. His brow’s furrowed so hard that his eyebrows are almost touching. 

“She’s  _ fine _ ,” Ty tells him. “She doesn’t like blood, remember? Never  _ fainted _ before, though.” Ty’s legs start shifting beneath my shoulders. “Come on, up & at ‘em. We’ve got a fancy dinner to get to & I’m bloody  _ starving _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this newfound plot has come from seemingly nowhere. Let me know how you like it because I'm over here compulsively judging myself. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaa


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz takes a walk in the woods; Simon & Baz talk.

**BAZ**

 

It’s dark when I return to the wood.

Simon didn’t want me coming out here again, not after the scare with the twins this afternoon. “Just drink some of what we brought with us,” he said.

“Simon, you know that’s for emergencies & for the ride home. I need to hunt. And, well, I _want_ to hunt.” I knew he understood that it’s not often I get this chance to fulfill that base predatory need. It fascinates me, sometimes, how much I’ve come to terms with my vampirism as I’ve aged. When I was younger I hated myself for needing - for _wanting_ \- to hunt. Now it’s a gift I give myself when we come here.

He nodded, kissing me once on the cheek & then the mouth. “I won’t be long,” I said. “I’m sure my father & Daphne wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a scone & tea, if you want.”

“Yeah, that sounds good, actually. I’ll see you when you get back.” Scones always make Simon feel better, & my parents do love his scones almost as much as they love him. (I’d say this was a surprising development, but it’s been nearly 30 years of my father actually _liking_ Simon Snow instead of helping me plot against him. Where has the time gone? I certainly don’t _feel_ 46\. Should 46 feel like  something? I don’t know. Life only seems to have improved, really.)

I’ve brought my wand with me, though I’m not sure I’ll actually use it. It all depends on if I really want to work for my food tonight, if I want this to be a proper hunt. I suppose I’ll walk a bit & see if I come across any game. I tilt my head & take a deep breath, hoping it’ll give me some hint of direction, but all I smell is the thick, heady scent of my children’s magic. It’s been hours since they were out here, & still the earth & air are heavy with the smells of fire, brimstone, & smoke.

I wonder, briefly, at what they were doing. Performing magic, clearly, & exuding a lot of power. They can do magic together; have done since they first started showing signs of their power. They’ve always been remarkably close for siblings, though I suppose that might have something to do with their being twins. There are times I wish that I was closer in age to my own siblings; perhaps I wouldn’t have been so lonely growing up.

I catch the scent of blood, but I know it’s stale as soon as the smell registers. It must be Luci’s, from earlier. After she fainted, Ty did “ **Get well soon** ” & “ **Clean as a whistle** ” on her foot, though I suppose he didn’t bother to clean the dirt.

My mind turns to the idea of Possibelf wanting me to give a guest lecture to her students. Now _there’s_ a splendid opportunity to embarrass my children. I don’t know what time of the school year she’ll want me, but I’ll need to start writing up a draft once we’re home. That way I’ll have plenty of time to get everything tip-top before the presentation. There’s just so much to _say_ about sonnets.

It’s cold out here & I'm starting to consider magicking a deer my way because cozying up next to the fire with Simon sounds much more appealing than this. Maybe he'll even take me right there in front of the fireplace, where we snogged all bloody night on that Christmas Eve so long ago.

Now _there's_ something that's aged well - sex with Simon. I remember what a pair of testosterone-driven buffoons we were when we first started sleeping together. At the time it felt like the best thing that had ever happened to me; now I know better.

Perhaps he'll be up for a bath first in the gigantic tub that used to be mine. I _did_ bring all my essential oils. I might be on my own for that part. The tub has gargoyles on it, too. Perhaps I’ll still be able to convince him to join me.

Well, there goes any semblance of concentration I had left. I raise my wand.

 

>>>

 

Simon sits behind me in the bath, my back to his chest, his damp hands carding through my (now relatively) dry hair. (I told him not to get it wet; I don't know why I bother.) My head rests against his shoulder, turned ever-so-slightly towards his neck so I can catch the scent of his skin along with the cedar & bergamot drifting up in the steam. If there's a heaven on Earth, this is it.

“Have I ever told you I like this bit?” He says, fingers catching on a thick lock of hair just above my right temple.

“Hm,” I hum, eyes closed. “You may have said so once or twice whilst tugging on it in the throes of carnal passion.”

“Git,” he says, then kisses me there. “It matches your eyes.”

“Is this your way of telling me I'm 'aging gracefully’?”

“You do everything gracefully.”

“Fair point; I'll take it as a compliment, then.”

“Narcissist,” he says, but he starts stroking my hair again with one hand & my stomach with the other anyway. Perhaps this is about to escalate, though I must say I’d like out of the bath first. The hot water makes me feel faint, sometimes; I may have just fed but I don’t want to risk it.

A pleasant heat begins to pool in my belly as he rubs me there. “You’re getting warmer,” I say without any magic.

His hands stop their ministrations. “Baz,” he says. “Baz, I’m worried about the kids.”

 _Way to put a damper on the mood_ , I think. “Why’s that?” I say instead.

“That’s the thing. I. I don’t really know? It’s just a feeling, I guess.”

“Is this about them going out into the wood today? We got that sorted, love. Bad service, Luci’s text didn’t come through. They’re getting older; they probably want more independence.”

“They’re _sixteen_ -,”

“Yes, well. I’d say they’ve had relatively uneventful childhoods compared to ours; no one’s tried to kill them yet.”

He stiffens behind me. “ _Baz_. That’s not a joke.”

I sigh. “What I’m trying to say is that they’re perfectly capable of going out on their own for a couple of hours.”

“It’s not that. It’s just. It’s _out there._ I don’t like it. The Humdrum attacked you there. I know it was a long fucking time ago but. Well, sometimes it still gets to me. Sometimes I’m okay here. Sometimes I can focus on the good stuff we’ve done here. The kids’ naming, all the good holidays we’ve spent here, all the snogging that first Christmas. Then sometimes all I can think about is how I could’ve lost you out there, right after I’d _really_ found you, you know?”  

My heart constricts & I feel myself literally melting into him. I think, _Am I really 46 or am I actually 18, still?_ Because sometimes Simon says things that make me fall in love with him all over again. There is not a prickle in my eye right now, no.

I turn around to face him as best as I can without sloshing water all over the floor. (Admittedly not my best move since now the most comfortable way to be here together is me knelt in front of him, my legs slotted between his. It's going to be fun trying to extricate ourselves from this tub.)

I get as close as I can without kneeing him in the groin. My hands cradle his face, run through his curls now speckled with grey. I kiss a mole on his forehead, then one at the corner of his mouth. “You haven't lost me,” I say. “I'm right here.”

And then he kisses me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we get to hear from Baz. He's an actual treasure & my favorite character, so I hope I can do him justice. Practice makes perfect, I suppose.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ty tries to relieve some tension.

**TYRANNUS**

 

I’ve been tossing & turning in this bed for what feels like hours now. I tried reading a book, but I can’t focus. I tried to find something on YouTube to watch on my mobile, but the service isn’t great out here. I thought about going downstairs for a glass of ice water because I’m still so _hot_ , but it’s late & I don’t want to wake anyone (even though I _know_ this house is so damn big that the likelihood of anyone actually hearing me is about zilch).

I think about texting Luci to see if she’s still awake, but I really don’t want another lecture about telling our parents that we’re basically pyromaniacs.

Actually, I think mainly I just don’t want to worry her. Because if I’m being honest with myself, _I’m_ a little worried. The desire to release my magic is so heightened that I’m scared to fall asleep.

Dad’s told us about how he used to “go off,” how he’d completely lose control of his magic & basically explode. I’d like to say that’s not me, that it isn’t how this feels at all, but how do I _know_?

I need to release some of this energy, otherwise it’s going to be a very unpleasant night. I lift my hand in front of my face (well, at least I think I do in the dark), bringing my fingers together to run over each other, back & forth. My hand curls, fingers brushing against my palm, & then I’m holding a flame.

The colors glow yellow & orange & _hot_ against my skin. I close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, & when I open them again the flame has gone.

I wonder, not for the first time & surely not the last, how it is that I actually _have_ this fire inside me. I’m not a Pitch or a Grimm by blood. When my Dad had magic, he was extraordinarily powerful, but he wasn’t _actually_ a fire mage. I’ve tried doing some research on his parents’ families, but I couldn’t find a hint of fire on either side. That leaves my birth mother, who I know was magickal (our parents have told us) but not a fire mage herself. Perhaps it runs in her family, somewhere. I don’t know; I’ve never spoken to her.

I suppose it’s _possible_ that I could just _be._ Seems like too big a coincidence, though.

I love my magic. I love the fire in me, but sometimes I wonder if I’m supposed to have it at all. (Most of those “sometimes” are here in Hampshire since I've started feeling like I'm about to burst here.)

I consider having a wank - that might relax me - but I immediately picture what might happen if my magic decided to pour out of me while I had hold of my cock & I scratch that idea. The headlines would be brutal, I'm sure of it. “Son of Chosen One & esteemed professor burns own cock off while on holiday at ancestral home; dies of embarrassment.” Fucking hell.

Ice water it is, then.

I decide to use my flame instead of my mobile for light; I need to expend the energy anyway so I might as well put it to use. I open my door & step out into the corridor. There’s no hint of light from under Luci’s door. Probably asleep, then.

I continue down the corridor, holding my flame in front of me so I can see where I’m going. My other hand brushes the wall. Now & again I pass another room, my hand falling inwards on the wall & pressing against a closed door. Most of them are empty, though once I come across one that’s rattling with wraiths. What a strange fucking house.

The landing’s up ahead & my hand passes over the door to my parents’ room. I can _feel_ magic on the other side. What kind of spell is that? I stop for a moment out of curiosity’s sake, wanting to see if I can figure it out. _Oh._ “ **Not a soul to hear.** ”

Well, they’re fucking. Alright.

Heat rushes to my ears as I move towards the staircase. I should really know better by now.

 

>>>

 

One glass. I should’ve stopped at one glass.

I’m spread-eagle on my back in bed, the five glasses of ice water I just pounded sloshing around in my gut. That first glass just felt _so good_ going down, I couldn’t bloody stop. The worst part isn’t even the discomfort; it’s that it didn’t help at all. I think I probably knew as soon as I’d finished with the first glass, but that bit of sweet relief while I drank was just too much to pass up, I guess.

So now I’m not just hot, irritable, & feeling like I’m about to burst; I’m hot, irritable, & trying not to be sick.

There’s got to be something I can do. Put up a silencing spell of my own & play guitar, maybe; but then again I want to burn my guitar just about as much as I want to burn my cock, even if the damage would be easier to fix.

There’s a soft knock at my door.

I lift my head & the water in my stomach makes a brilliant gurgle. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.” Luci.

My head drops back onto my pillow; I notice it feels a tad damp. “Yeah, alright.”

The door opens, closes, then the torchlight from Luci’s mobile washes over me. “Fuck, it’s cold in here.” The light spasms & lands on the open window. “Are you…” The light’s back on me & it’s now that I remember I’m lying spread-eagle on top of the blankets in just my pants. “Crowley, okay. Budge up.”

I manage to sit myself up, water roiling through my belly. Luci turns on the bedside lamp before climbing onto the bed.

“You look like you’re about to puke,” she says. I give her _a look_ . “ _Are_ you about to puke?”

I shake my head, though I could prove myself wrong here in a minute. “What’re you doing in here? Thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but I heard you out in the corridor clunking about. Also it seems there’s a wraith that’s moved into my wardrobe since Christmas & it won’t stop rattling the door. I don’t know how to get it out. I was going to ask Daddy but I think they’re busy.”

“ _Still_ ?” Aleister _Crowley_.

Luci shrugs. “Yes, well. It can wait till morning.” She holds out her hands; I stare at them for a moment. “Well, come on.”

When I reach for her hands, my magic immediately starts flowing into her. My shoulders slump & I let out a long breath I didn’t even know I was holding. I let go when I’ve almost filled her to the brim. “Thanks,” I say, because what else _is_ there to say, really?

“What were you doing downstairs?” she asks as she lifts my blanket & crawls under it.

“I thought maybe some ice water would help.” I get under the blanket, too, because suddenly I’m no longer overheating. Still feel a bit sick, though.

We turn on our sides to face each other. “And how’d that work out for you?” She’s got that blasted eyebrow quirked at me.

“As well as you expect, I imagine. My logic seemed sound at the time.”

“You drank too much, didn’t you? I can hear it sloshing around in there.” And she pokes me in the gut because my sister can be a bit of a bitch if she wants.

I swat at her hand, “ _Stop_.”

“I wonder if it all would’ve burned up if I hadn’t taken some of your magic just now. Or maybe you would’ve just sweat it all out-,”

“I don’t know, Luci, but can we not talk about it right now? This is the first time I’ve felt sort of normal in a few hours so I’d love to go the fuck to sleep.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then sighs as if she has something to say but is holding it in. “Yeah, alright. You don’t mind if I stay, do you?”

“‘S fine,” I say. My eyelids are starting to droop, thank Crowley.

I wake up to piss three times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite word is "fuck," in case you didn't notice.
> 
> Also, here's some meta shit to think on - Is Harry Potter a thing in this world? As in are the books a thing? If so I wonder if "Riddikulus" could be used in this instance to get rid of Luci's wardrobe wraith. Like so many people have read the HP books & played the movies that "Riddikulus" might be said enough to power a spell in the World of Mages. Hmm.
> 
> PS I've been compiling this [playlist of songs](https://music.amazon.com/user-playlists/aa01779abd0f4ee985f63642e4a256a9sune?ref=dm_sh_QcYodMo1Y8tk3cqDyIkS32WdT) that are either mentioned in the story or that remind me of this little family. Check it out if you're so inclined. (The version of Hellfire on the playlist is what I imagine Ty might sound like.) :D
> 
> EDIT: I think Jon's having issues with streaming songs so I'mma just drop the [YouTube link to his Hellfire cover here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=di1XUB0YIzw) because I'm obsessed. 
> 
> Also today just won the award for best day ever since Rainbow announced the Wayward Son release date this morning #iamdead


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after.

**LUCILLE**

 

I'm used to waking up peacefully, sunlight washing over me through the window, maybe a little birdsong. Watford's good for those sorts of mornings.

Today I wake up to Ty's incessant snoring.

Sleepily, I turn toward him & smack him in the hopes that he'll shut up. It doesn't work, of course. I grab him by the shoulder & start to shake it, & then I realize his skin's damp.

He's thrown his blanket off in the night, which suits me fine because the more blanket for me the better, but he's not just warm. He's been roasting in this bloody bed all night.

“Fuck,” I say, sitting up to get a better look at him. His hair & the bedclothes around him are soaked with sweat, the room thick with the smell of it. “Ty?” I shake him some more but he's dead to the world. I sigh & straddle his middle, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. My eyes close, I inhale, & I begin to siphon the magic out of him. His skin begins to cool beneath my fingers & I stop pulling from him. “Okay,” I sigh, then, with my hands still on him, I say, “ **Into thin air** ,” & the sweat pooled on his skin evaporates.

I don’t move just yet.

“Ty,” I say again. Nothing. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ I use my thumb & forefinger to pull the eyelids on his left eye apart (why, I don’t know, because I have no idea what to even look for). The blue eye rolls & then Ty startles, flailing & dumping me onto the floor.

I think, _I’m really getting battered around this trip._

“What the fuck!” he yells.

“It’s me, you blithering idiot!” I yell back.

“What the _fuck_!”

I’m back on my feet at this point so I grab one of his pillows & hit him in the head. “ _Crowley,_ shut _up_. I thought you were in a bloody coma or something.”

“ _What_?”

“A _CO-MA_ -”

“I _know_ what a ‘coma’ is,” he says, rolling his eyes so hard I think they’re going to roll right out of his skull. “I mean, what the fuck’s your problem?”

I cross my arms & stare him down. “Really? _Really_? I wake up & you're drenched with sweat, heated up like a bloody furnace, so I took some magic from you & tried to make sure you weren't dying, you prick.”

He lets out a long sigh, shakes his head, & scrubs at his face with his hands. “Sorry, I just...you scared me.”

“Well, _you_ scared me, too, so I guess we're even.”

“What, is this a competition?”

“Ty, we need to tell them there's something wr-,”

“Fucking hell, can I at least _wake up_ before you start?” he snaps.

He’s so bloody _stubborn._ I sit next to him on the bed. “I don’t understand why you’re so...reluctant, I suppose.”

“Look. Look, I don’t want to worry anyone. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s holiday. Besides, it might not even be a problem today. That stuff just now might’ve just been leftover from yesterday. We could go out to the woods again, do a few songs or something, & I’ll probably be fine.”

I am so skeptical it almost hurts. “You really think it won’t be an issue today? _Really_?”

“I don’t-,”

“Anyhow, you’ve already worried _me_ , & the holiday will definitely be ruined if you blow up-,”

“You think I’m going to _blow up_?!”

“ _No_ ,” I say, then, “I don’t know.” Because I _don’t._

Ty stares at the ground, scratches the back of his neck. “One more day can’t make much of a difference. Why don’t we see how today goes & if it’s more of the same we can tell them tomorrow.”

Crowley.

 

>>>

 

**SIMON**

 

Baz arrives downstairs while I’m cooking breakfast. I feel him behind me, a hand on my waist, then he kisses a mole on my cheek, saying, “Smells good, love,” before moving off to fix coffee & sit with Malcolm & Daphne at the table.

We’ve got this routine down after all these years. I cook breakfast here at The Gothic Mansion™, not so much because I cook most of the meals at home, but because it helps me relax. (I also enjoy it.) Daphne used to make a fuss (“You’re our _guest_ , Simon”) until I explained _why_ I do it. She knows I get nervous here, sometimes. She also knows I like cooking. She won’t usually ask which way I’m feeling of a morning; I think she can usually tell.

Back when they were still kids, Baz’s sisters loved to help if they could. I’d have them do the simple jobs like washing potatoes for hash or counting out how many eggs we’d need. Then when the Grimm girls were grown, my own kids came along. Luci usually still helps with chopping the vegetables, but she & Ty haven’t come downstairs yet.

They get impatient, sometimes, doing it my way, but I tell them it’s a good skill to have. Besides, food tastes better made without magic.

This morning I’ve got bacon & a frittata going, plus some of the scones I brought with us yesterday.

Even after Baz & I talked last night (among other things), I still feel like something’s _off._ My therapist used to say that anxiety can do that; make you feel like something’s wrong when it’s not. About my anxiety in Hampshire in particular, she said I was _projecting._

It’s hard to tell, sometimes.

I wouldn’t call myself an anxious person, not anymore, but ever since we got here yesterday something’s just felt _wrong._

“Simon?” I jump because Baz is _right here_ & where the fuck did he come from? “You alright, love?”

“I’m. Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, because we’ve already talked about this. Maybe I’ll text Penny later, or call her, if I can’t get this under control.

“I asked if you’d like some coffee but you’ve just been staring into the depths of your frittata,” Baz says, brow furrowed.

“Please,” I say. It won’t help with the anxiety, but neither will a caffeine headache so I pick my poison.

At least I haven't burnt the frittata.

“Morning, Granddaddy, Nana,” I hear Luci say, & then she's beside me & I almost jump _again._ “Sorry.”

“That's alright, love. I'm just a little jumpy this morning.” I transfer the frittata to an idle burner, turn off the working one.

“Hm, you & Ty both, then,” she says, & she kisses me at the corner of my mouth. “Looks good, Dad. Sorry I wasn't here to help.”

“Where's your brother?” Baz asks, setting my coffee on the counter for me.

“Oh, he wanted a shower before breakfast.” Luci reaches up to tug at a strand of her hair, but it's too short now so she starts toying with the cuff of her jumper instead.

“Is he alright?” I ask. Ty never showers before breakfast.

“Yeah, just. Said he woke up feeling gross so he went to shower. Might be because I slept in his bed with him. You know how he likes it cool to sleep. Extra body heat, you know.”

“Why'd you sleep in Ty's bed?” _Do they do that often_? I wonder. Surely not at Watford; I don't know anyone but Penny who could get into the boys' houses & vice versa. Then again, my kids are special. Powerful. And Luci, well. She didn't inherit just her father's looks. She's top of her class. (Ty's not far behind, either.)

“There’s a wraith in my wardrobe,” she says. “It wouldn’t have been a problem, only it kept rattling the door & waking me up. I was going to ask Daddy for help getting rid of it; I couldn’t figure out how.” Top of her class, but still learning, & usually with enthusiasm. Not so much this morning.

I don’t think this is all in my head, this _wrongness_ I’ve been feeling.

“Simon!” Baz says. I’ve been watching my husband & our daughter, teacher & student, listening to them shoot ideas back & forth about how they might banish Luci’s wraith. “The oven,” he says.

I whip around, open the door, & a mass of smoke billows out. _Fuck_ , I think, my eyes watering, my lungs burning, & I cough, cough, cough.

“ **Into thin air** ,” Luci manages to say, & the smoke vanishes as if it’s been sucked into a vacuum.

Inside the oven, my bacon’s burnt to a crisp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a tad with whether I wanted to make Simon "Normal" in this story, mostly because I feel there's a good chance he'll get his magic back in Wayward Son (I'm about 50/50 on this, I don't know). But I decided that for where I'm going with the plot, it'll make sense for him to not have magic. 
> 
> Let's assume he had his tail & wings surgically removed at some point in the last 28 years, because that shit would get annoying.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A naming ceremony, remembered.

**SIMON**

 

We didn’t tell anyone we were having twins.

By the time we decided to go ahead & try to have a kid, I’d been telling Baz he was human for years. I think by that point he even believed me, otherwise he never would’ve given sperm, I don’t think. Even so, I _know_ he never expected to be fertile. It was just part of the ritual. We were in it together, & we loved each other, & we wanted a baby.

And we got two. And it was our own special secret to keep until they were _ours_.

They told us that we could have a paternity test before they were born, but we left it a surprise. And in the meantime, we fretted, I think. (By this point in my life, I actually _did_ think about things, even the things I didn’t particularly want to think about.)

If the babies were mine, would they be magickal? _That_ was what I thought of most. It’d been 11 years since I’d lost my own magic, & Normals don’t _have_ magickal children. Our surrogate mother had magic, & I wanted that for them, so, so much.

I wanted it for Baz, & I’m sure he wanted it, too.

The first time we saw them was like a dream.

I held Ty first, & I could _feel_ it. I wasn't sure, at first, if it was that bone-deep connection between a son & his father or if it was something _else._

Baz would be able to tell.

He was holding Luci, our little black-haired beauty, & when I looked at him I could see the shock, the wonder, the absolute disbelief, but most of all, the _love_ written plainly across his own beautiful face.

I thought he might cry, & he did.

I could feel tears in my eyes, too.

“Baz,” I said, cradling my son, still not quite believing he was real. “ _Baz_ , I think he’s got magic.” And I knew. I _knew._ “He’s got magic,” I said again, no question, a disbelieving little laugh escaping my lips. “Crowley, _he’s got magic_.”

 

**BAZ**

 

All I wanted was for my children to be _alive._

No one in our family knew that we’d had twins, not until their naming.

Not even Fiona knew, & she’d be officiating. (A Pitch naming ceremony requires a Pitch, & my hands were rather full.)

We knew their names but had yet to speak them. To speak a name is power.

The magic had returned to Hampshire by then, but it was still new, & tentative, & tender. For a time we wondered if it was temporary.

Still, I wanted my children named there. I was named there. My mother held me on that very ground, speaking my name into existence (long, tedious thing that it is). My mother loved me there, before she was taken from me.

I wanted to share this with her. Perhaps there, she could see her grandchildren.

And when Simon & my family asked why we couldn’t hold the ceremony elsewhere, that was my answer. Nobody asked again, just made the trip to Hampshire to meet my children, to hear their names spoken into the world. (My family had yet to move back there, wanting to be certain the magic _stuck_.)

We walked barefoot onto that ground, our son in my arms, our daughter in Simon's, & when everyone who was waiting for us saw us it was the loudest silence.

Mordelia broke it, of course, “You've got two babies!” She clutched at Daphne's arm, wiggling as if perhaps she were about to explode. “Mum, _they've got two babies._ ” (Daphne, for her part, smiled at us & dabbed at her eyes.)

“You've outdone yourself, Basil,” Fiona said, head shaking but grinning ear to ear. (I thought perhaps I saw a hint of tears in her eyes, too, but one can never be sure with Fiona.)

Bunce, for once in her life, seemed speechless. (She was absolutely fascinated when we talked about it afterwards. “But the _probability_!”)

I do believe my father looked the proudest I've ever seen him.

“Face each other,” Fiona began, raising her wand, & we did. The children slept on in our arms. “ **_Nati lisimae aism_ ** ,” then, with a little grin, “ **_asmin_ **.” Magic roiled through the earth beneath our feet as if in answer to her Arabic. She began to circle us, her wand following the path of her feet. “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch,” she said, passing me, then, “Simon Snow Pitch,” passing him, completing her circle, “your love for each other has made these children.” She looked between us both before turning to me. “Basil, you have something to say.” Not a question; we’d discussed it before hand.

I was exhausted; Simon & I both were. We’d been up nights & nights & nights with our children. But I had to cast, & with the magic emanating from the land I knew I could.

“I do,” I said, & I shifted our son to one arm so that I could grip my wand. I looked at Simon, at my husband holding our daughter, & a steadying warmth rushed through me, pooling in my chest. Love, love, _love._ I closed my eyes a moment, calling up the magic in me that I’d need for this, drawing from the earth to fill in the rest.

I stepped closer to Simon, as close as I could be.

“ **Let me not to the marriage of true minds**

**Admit impediments. Love is not love**

**Which alters when it alteration finds,**

**Or bends with the remover to remove.** ”

The circle Fiona had made around us began to glow with my magic, with hers, with _Pitch_ magic.

I kissed my husband at the corner of his mouth, then my daughter on her tiny lips, then my son on his.

“ **O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark**

**That looks on tempests and is never shaken;**

**It is the star to every wand'ring bark,**

**Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.** ”

I rested my forehead to Simon’s, & I knew he was feeling the rush of magic between us, encircling us, engulfing us.

We chose this sonnet for our wedding. “Love is like a star,” it says, like that night we sat among the stars in Mummer’s Tower. The night everything changed.

We stood among stars now, though I don’t think anyone could see them. They weren’t for anyone else.

What everyone did see was the _magic_ twisting & twining, ropes of it shining like stars, drawing us four together, drawing us closer than close, myself, my husband, our children.

“ **Love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks**

**Within his bending sickle’s compass come:**

**Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,**

**But bears it out even to the edge of doom.**

**If this be error and upon me proved,**

**I never writ, nor no man ever loved.** ”

And when it was over, I kissed them all again. Our son first, this time, then our daughter, then Simon. And when I kissed him my hand gripped him by the back of his neck, drawing him further into me still. My tongue licked into his mouth, & his licked into mine, & in that moment it felt as if Simon Snow had never lost his magic. The air smelled like smoke. His mouth was alive with the taste of it.

I had to let him go; we weren’t done here yet.

Fiona’s lip was quirked, a little smirk, but there was power there & she didn’t have a quip, not just then.

I looked to Simon, & we nodded at each other, an understanding. “Our son,” we said to her, together, & she placed a slender hand on his tiny head.

“ **_Ma asmah?_ **” she asked in Arabic.

“ **_Tyrannus Malcolm Pitch_ **,” I spoke our son’s name into the world, the magic thick on my tongue, & he woke, his blue eyes searching. He didn’t cry.

I thought Fiona might, for a moment.

“ **_Tyrannus Malcolm Pitch_ **,” she repeated, & there wasn’t a hint of a tremble in her voice.

My eyes met Simon’s again, & again we nodded, a silent cue. “Our daughter,” we said, & Simon’s fingers brushed the fringe from her forehead before Fiona touched her.

“ **_Ma 'asmaha?_ **” Fiona said.

“ **_Lucille Natasha Pitch_ **,” I spoke our daughter’s name into the world, & she woke. Like her brother, she was silent.

Tears fell from Fiona’s eyes at the sound of her sister’s name. She nodded at us, smiling.

“ **_Lucille Natasha Pitch_ **,” & despite her tears, her voice was steady still.

She raised her wand again & looked at me, a look that asked _Are you sure?_ And I was. Nervous, yes, but sure.

She said, “ **_Daehum yakun aismuh_ **,” & the magicked circle that surrounded us caught fire, a display of Pitch magic if ever there was one.

And then it was just me, & Simon, & our children.

The world was so hot.

Simon pulled me in, as far from the edge of that circle as he could bring me. We breathed the same air, the four of us.

The fire danced in our children’s eyes.

My gaze bore into Simon’s as we clung together. We nodded at each other one last time.

“ **Make a wish** ,” I said, & the fire went out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was a trip to write. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :D
> 
> Not sure how accurate the Arabic is; I just used Google translate lol. 
> 
> Nati lisimae aism = We come to hear a name  
> asmin = two names  
> Ma asmah? = What is his name?  
> Ma 'asmaha? = What is her name?  
> Daehum yakun aismuh = Let them be named
> 
> >>>
> 
> Modern translation of Sonnet 116
> 
> I hope I may never acknowledge any reason why minds that truly love each other shouldn’t be joined together. Love isn’t really love if it changes when it sees the beloved change or if it disappears when the beloved leaves. Oh no, love is a constant and unchanging light that shines on storms without being shaken; it is the star that guides every wandering boat. And like a star, its value is beyond measure, though its height can be measured. Love is not under time’s power, though time has the power to destroy rosy lips and cheeks. Love does not alter with the passage of brief hours and weeks, but lasts until Doomsday. If I’m wrong about this and can be proven wrong, I never wrote, and no man ever loved.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ty cools off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol that awkward moment when you somehow forget that Tyrannus Basilton “the absolute treasure” Grimm-Pitch is from HAMPSHIRE, not Oxfordshire, & you're 11 chapters deep before you realize. (HOW?!)
> 
> #notbritish
> 
> No one knows how this happened, least of all me because I am a perfectionist & should've known this. I tried Googling where Baz's family lived (before I started writing!!!) & got nothing. (My library copy of the audiobook had expired by then.) Who the fuck knows where Oxfordshire came from.
> 
> I was going through the last chapter of Carry On with my newly acquired hardcopy (fact checking for my new little fic) when the word “Hampshire” literally reached out & punched me in the face.
> 
> I have now made all necessary changes to the fic so let's just pretend it always said Hampshire. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

**TYRANNUS**

 

I thought that starting the day with a cold shower might get me off to a good start. (It seemed logical, anyway.) 

I don’t think it did anything.

I stood there under the cold water for a while - half an hour, maybe, & hungry as fuck because I always eat first thing - & watched as steam rose from my skin. The water didn’t even feel cold. I turned the tap as cold as it would go, but my skin kept turning the droplets to steam. 

I sighed in defeat, turned off the tap. I didn’t even have to towel off; the water evaporated right from my skin. 

I’m dressed, now, but I haven’t gone down to breakfast yet. I need to go out to the woods & release some fire. I’m going to need Luci to take more magic from me, too, because it seems like it’s replenishing as soon as she takes it. 

I need to figure something out, otherwise I’m going to be glued to her the whole bloody holiday. 

My hair’s still wet, but it doesn’t feel good against my skin anymore, just annoying & drippy. I run my fingers through it once, flick the excess water to the floor. Then I run my fingers through it again & say, “ **Dry spell** ,” & it’s dry, just like that. (Super literal spell, that, but effective.) 

I’m pulling it up into a bun when it hits me. Can I use my magic  _ against  _ my magic?

I close my eyes, focus on the overflowing well of magic at my core. “ **Cool off** ,” I say, & to my surprise I actually feel a little less hot. “No shit,” I mumble. Then, with a little more power than before, “ **Cool off** .” 

I let out a triumphant hoot. My temperature's returned to normal (or close enough) & I don't feel like I'm going to literally spit fire.

I don't feel normal, exactly, but it's a definite improvement. There's this weird feeling in my core, like two forces pushing against each other, two magnets repelling. I can live with that, at least through breakfast. Then Luci & I can put our heads together & see if there are any stronger spells we could cast on it.

I wonder what a song like “Let it Go,” might do. It has to be powerful; Normals have been singing that one for years. 

Might be too powerful. 

I’m still thinking about it as I head downstairs for breakfast. Would it release ice magic, like in the movie? Or would it be a literal way to let go of my own magic?  _ That  _ could be an actual disaster. I might set the whole bloody forest on fire. 

I wonder if there are any spells we could  _ make  _ for me. I try to think if there are any Vines that might work. (Vines are great for spells. People are constantly quoting them & they’re immortalized on YouTube. Luci makes fun of me, says I’m too powerful & should focus on creating spells that have more meaning, but I’ve never once heard her complain about my  **Fre Sh A Voca Do** spell. There’s almost nothing worse than an off avocado.)

When I get to the kitchen, there’s the tell-tale smell of burnt bacon but no smoke. 

 

**LUCILLE**

 

“Good morning, Ty,” Granddad says from the table. Oh,  _ finally.  _

“Hey,” Ty says. “Is something burning?”

“ _ There  _ you are,” I grab him & drag him toward the counter. My grip tightens on his arm & I give him a look. He’s not burning up. Maybe the cold shower actually worked. His arm flexes under my hand, a silent “We’ll talk later.” 

“Dad burnt the bacon,” I whisper. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad burn something. 

“Morning, Ty,” Dad says as he pulls the tray from the oven. He looks at it a little forlornly before setting it on the counter. “You’re just in time for breakfast but it looks like bacon’s off the table.”

“Nah,” Ty says, pulling away from me. “It’s perfect like this.” He pops a piece of charred meat into his mouth,  _ ew.  _ Then he says, still chewing, “But we can fix it. I know you don’t like magicked food, but magicked bacon’s better than no bacon, right?”

One side of Dad’s mouth quirks up in a little half-smile. “Yeah, alright.” 

Ty looks down at the bacon, says, “I could do  **as you were** , but then it’d just turn raw. Maybe…” He runs his fingers over each piece, saying “ **Waste not, want not** ,” & the bacon turns a crisp shade of brown. “There we go.” Ty grabs the tray & turns around to face us. “Good as new.” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath from somewhere - Nana, maybe. I stare at him, trying to convey the “What the  _ fuck _ ?” on my tongue silently. My eyes flick down at the tray, then back to his. 

 

**TYRANNUS**

 

Everyone’s staring at me. 

I realize, then, that I’ve just picked up a scalding hot tray. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Show & tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute, y'all. (No pun intended.) Sorry to leave you hanging; I never intended to take that long of a hiatus. Once I started [A Pair of Splendid Morons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786282/chapters/41964572) it quickly evolved into a bigger story than I'd originally planned & I wanted to get it taken care of, especially because it helped me to lay out some groundwork for this story. And speaking of _this_ story, I've got the bare bones; now I have to do the hard part & create the muscle & the organs & \- just for Baz - the blood. So. Let's get on with it, shall we?

**LUCILLE**

 

“Did you just pull a Khaleesi on my bacon tray?” Dad asks Ty, & it takes me a second to realize he's talking about that old show, _Game of Thrones._ (Daenerys is _not_ actually fireproof. Daddy & I read the books together a few years ago & discussed blood magic & metaphors & all that shit at length. Literary analysis, that sort of thing.)

 _Has_ Ty gone fireproof? We're still staring at each other. I literally see him consider pretending to be burnt & decide against it, the tosser.

He says, “Um,” & sets the tray back on the counter, stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yeah?”

I close my eyes. _Aleister fucking Crowley._

“ _Yeah_ ?” Daddy says. “Care to elaborate, Tyrannus?” _Oh, shit._ Full name, all three syllables.

“School project?” Ty says.

“During the summer?” Dad says.

“ _Yes_ ,” I say, crossing to Ty & grabbing his arm. His skin feels like maybe he’s starting to heat up again, but just a little; this doesn’t make any bloody sense at all. “Yes, we wanted to get a head start, didn’t we?” I look at him; he raises his eyebrows.

“Hm,” Daddy hums as he leans against the counter, arms & ankles crossed. _Shit, he knows. Of course he does._

Damn it all. I don’t know if I should even bother trying to concoct an excuse. I don’t get a chance, because suddenly Nana’s in front of us feeling Ty’s forehead with the back of her hand.

“Are you alright, love?” she asks. She’s genuinely concerned. (I think she probably should be.)

“Yeah. S’a school project,” Ty says again, weakly. I hear Granddad snort from where he’s sitting at the table. I just elbow Ty in the ribs.

“Simon,” Daddy says, & he doesn’t take his eyes off us. They’re cool, & grey, & _serious_. “Care to join me in the library?”

“Right,” Dad says. “Go ahead & start breakfast; we’ll be back,” he says to Granddad & Nana.

“Ty. Luci. Come along.” Daddy beckons us with a hand. _Fuck._

We follow them out of the kitchen & I’ve no idea what we’re going to tell them. I doubt Ty does, either. Well, maybe this is for the best.

 

**TYRANNUS**

 

Maybe this is for the best.

When we get to the library, Pops gestures at one of the couches & says, “Sit.” We do. “Now,” he says. “Which of you would like to remind me of this family’s number one rule?” Crowley, sometimes I wish he’d just yell at us. Get it over with.

Luci’s voice is timid when she says, “We don’t lie to each other.”

“Oh, you _do_ remember,” he says, crossing his arms. “I thought for a moment that you'd forgotten.”

“You know you can come to us with anything,” Dad says. “We've always made that clear, yeah?”

Fuck, what do I say? _What do I say?_

“We were going to,” Luci says. Oh. Maybe I'll just let her take it from here. “It's just. We were still trying to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Dad says.

“Our magic,” Luci says. “It's... different here.”

Our dads look at each other, then back at us. Dad looks concerned. Pops looks... _intrigued._

He says, “Different... _how_?”

Luci elbows me in the ribs. Maybe there's still a way to tell them what's going on without getting into the potentially worrisome bits. Like how I'm starting to feel like I could spit fire again. I need to release some magic, anyway. That's not lying, is it?

“Well.” I shrug. “Maybe it’d be easier if we showed you.”

 

**SIMON**

 

After breakfast, the kids lead us out into the forest. (Baz wanted them to show us their magic in the library. Luci told him _no_ , that it had to be outside. She was looking around at all the books like they might burn. She looked at _him_ like he might burn.)

I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, it makes me nervous. I tell Baz as much as we follow Luci & Ty out into a clearing. The forest floor is blackened with char.

“It’s alright, love,” he says. “They’re fire mages. It won’t hurt them.”

For their part, the kids look nervous too when they turn to face us. Something passes between them as they look at each other - I don’t know what - & Luci sighs.

“Okay,” she says. “This might seem...weird. So don’t freak out. And maybe stand back a little. Actually, yes. Do that. Please.” I think she’s trying _not_ to freak us out, but it isn’t really working for me. I take a few steps back & pull Baz with me. I don’t want him anywhere near the thing that caused the forest floor to _burn._

His eyes are closed & he’s breathing deep.

“What’re you doing?” I ask under my breath.

“It’s magic,” he says, opening his eyes. “This place is full of the smell of it. It’s _rich._ It’s…” When he breathes in the air, his eyes fall closed again. The look on his face is almost sensual. “It’s Pitch. And something else. I can’t quite make it out.”

All mages can smell magic. (I can't, not since I lost mine.) Baz, though...he can smell things other people can't. All of his senses are more attuned with nature that way, a hunter's senses. I wonder what it is that even he can't identify.

Ahead of us, the twins are facing each other, palms touching. They aren’t looking at us, not anymore. They’re in their own world. Luci whispers something to Ty, & he nods. Smoke pours from his mouth, his nostrils, in between their hands. I jump. Baz has to hold me back.

“They’re alright,” he says, & he’s watching them, absolutely enchanted. There’s no better word for it.

I watch, too. _Of course they’re alright_ , I tell myself. They’ve had fire magic since they were children, since they were _born_. Since they could harness their power. And they’ve always been brilliant with it, just like Baz. It won’t hurt them.

 

**TYRANNUS**

 

“You should do it, this time,” Luci whispered to me. “It might help you get more out.”

I figure it’s worth a shot, at least. The smoke’s pouring from me, scratchy in my throat. I have the brief thought that it’s never bothered me like that before, but the feeling’s gone almost as soon as it came as Luci pulls some of my magic into herself. Still, if I don’t start casting soon I’m like to burst.

I breathe in, inhaling my own smoke. Close my eyes. And even though my magic’s sparking at the surface, _burning_ , I still reach down deep to drag more of it out. Luci gasps. She can feel it, too.

We hold each other's gaze, her grey eyes a storm. I wonder what mine look like now. She nods.

I imagine the music in my head, guitar. Maybe a piano, drums. (It’s easier for me that way, to sing with music.) I start, “ _Beata Maria,_ ” and my voice is gravel.

I realize I'm nervous, suddenly, or maybe I just feel moronic, doing this for someone who isn’t my sister. Either way, it's too late to stop now.

 _You know I am a righteous man_ _  
_ _Of my virtue I am justly proud_

  
My fire’s already leaking from my fingertips & I haven’t even gotten to the lines about fire yet. I’m not sure what that could mean. Luci’s hands are still in mine, so they light up, too.  
  
_Beata Maria_  
_You know I'm so much purer than_ _  
The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd_

I remember when we first started doing this song. “ _What’s licentious_?” I said, & Luci rolled her eyes & said, “ _Crowley, Ty. You’ve a mobile._ Google _it_.” Means promiscuous, which I’m certainly not. I’m still a virgin. (Kissed a few girls here & there, though.) I think Luci’s still a virgin, too. She would’ve told me. (Wouldn’t she?)  
  
_Then tell me, Maria_  
_Why I see her dancing there  
Why her smold'ring eyes still scorch my soul_

 _  
_ I spin my sister. Her flame laps at her calves & catches in my fire. I can’t tell where one ends & the other begins.

 _I feel her, I see her_  
_The sun caught in her raven hair_  
_Is blazing in me out of all control_

 _  
_ My magic _is_ blazing in me, even as it pours out of me, wreathing us in flame. When Luci pulls, I push. She’s trying to take more of my magic, trying to put my fire _out._ I don’t do any pulling of my own. I don’t _need_ any more magic.

 _Like fire_  
_Hellfire_ _  
This fire in my skin_

I feel better, even as I burn. Take it , I think, & I don’t know who I’m talking to. Luci, maybe. The forest. Wherever magic itself comes from. All of them, maybe. Still, the fire in me grows. It just keeps coming. It’s relentless. _Ruthless._

 _This burning_  
_Desire_ _  
Is turning me to sin_

We’ve been dancing this whole time - faster now as my singing quickens - & I don’t rightly know _what_ sort of dance this is. Without all the fire, I mean. I can’t really _think_ about much else besides expelling magic right now. It feels _good_ to let it go like this.

 _It's not my fault_  
_I'm not to blame_  
_It is the gypsy girl_ _  
The witch who sent this flame_

 _  
_ We’re circling each other, so fast, & the world is shades of scarlet.

 _It's not my fault_  
_If in God's plan_  
_He made the devil so much_ _  
Stronger than a man_

  
We slow again, & it burns. It _burns._

 _Protect me, Maria_  
_Don't let this siren cast her spell_ **_  
_ ** **_Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone_ **

_Oh_ , I think in some far away part of my mind. A part that isn't focused on my words. A part that isn't on fire. _I've cast a spell._

 _Hellfire_  
_Dark fire_  
_Now gypsy, it's your turn_  
_Choose me or_  
_Your pyre_  
_Be mine or you will burn_  
  
My hands in Luci’s are red-hot, _smelt_. Everything smells like smoke. It’s in my eyes, my mouth. My fire’s coiling slowly up my arms, up my legs, glowing bright. _So_ bright.

_God have mercy on her_

My fire’s dancing in Luci’s eyes. She looks... _afraid._

_God have mercy on me_

I have to let go of her.

It’s not easy when our magicks are twining together like this, but I do. There’s an audible _snap_ as I pull away from her. I can’t finish the song. If I finish the song...I don’t know what will happen.

I hear myself scream, “ ** _Give me sanctuary_ **!” & the words are laced with my magic. It collapses in on itself, back to wherever it comes from inside of me.

My hands are full of dead leaves. I'm knelt on the ground & I've no idea when I fell to my knees.

Luci's stood a few feet away, staring at me, her chest heaving. She closes her eyes. I pant & pant & pant. I need _water._ There're hands on my back, on my arms - a woman's hands, small, _Luci's_ \- pulling me up.

When I finally look up at my dads, they're just staring at us.

 

**SIMON**

 

“ _What_ ,” I say. I don't turn to Baz. I can't take my eyes off my children. I've just watched them dance in an inferno. Who knows what would happen if I look away? “What the _fuck_ was that?”

That isn't normal fire magic. I don't think. I've never seen Baz do anything like it, or Malcolm. Or Fiona. _Anyone._

Baz lets out a shaky breath. “ _Ladybird, ladybird,_ ” he says without any magic. “ _Your house is on fire...and your children shall burn._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, shit just got weirder.
> 
> Promise I'll be updating in less than six weeks this time.
> 
> I'd also like you all to know that I'm simultaneously pleased & embarrassed with myself for having Ty refer to Baz as "Pops." Let's just pretend that came solely from Ty's goofy-ass brain & not mine. I imagine he gets a kick out of the double meaning. You know, like, "Hey, better watch out; Pops' fangs are popped." Crowley, I'm ridiculous.
> 
> Oh yeah, here's [Ty's version of Hellfire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=di1XUB0YIzw) as I imagine it. Jonathan Young is a gift. 
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff) if you want to see me be obnoxious & generally embarrass myself between chapters. (It's what I do best, honestly.)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mysteries.

**BAZ**

 

I don't know what I've just watched.

No, I do.

_ A god-like display of magic. _

If we were still kids, Simon would probably be saying it's  _ cool _ or  _ wicked _ or something moronic. As it stands, he looks as confused as I feel.

They're powerful, our children. More powerful than me, & _ I _ am powerful. (I don’t mind admitting it, that they’re stronger than I am. It’s a point of pride, really.) And they’ve always been able to share magic, push & pull it from one another. Even I couldn’t take Simon’s magic from him, not unless he offered it to me. 

Even after all these years I still wonder if Simon has something buried in him somewhere, some magic leftover. And where  _ does  _ magic come from, anyway? A gene? You'd think we'd know these things by now. It’s the sort of thing Bunce is always researching but never  _ quite  _ reaching an answer to.

The twins are another thing we don't have all the answers to. I don’t know that we ever will, which is infuriating, if I’m honest. The mystery that is my children has burned in the back of my mind since the moment Ty produced his first flame.

“What're you talking about?” Simon says. It takes me a moment to realize  _ he’s  _ talking about what I said a moment ago, about “Ladybird, ladybird.”

I don’t know  _ why  _ I said it, exactly, other than it was the first thing that came to mind. Maybe...

I say, “I was thinking maybe...maybe  _ we  _ did this. All those times you pushed your magic into me, all those times I  _ took  _ it from you, when you offered. We didn't know what we were  _ doing,  _ Simon. We just knew it worked.”

Simon raises his eyebrows,  _ my  _ signature move. “You're saying that us fighting off that dragon is the reason the kids can go up in flames? Like we accidentally made up some sort of spell? Is that it? Because that's probably the maddest thing I've ever heard from you. And you once thought vampirism could be sexually transmitted.”

Crowley, of  _ course  _ he'd remind me of that, the bastard. I roll my eyes. “It was a logical deduction at the time, & _ no.  _ I don't mean the dragon. Not necessarily.” I don't know  _ what _ I mean. There's something itching in my brain & it feels so  _ close  _ but I can't hold onto it. It’s maddening.

I walk towards them, Ty & Luci. Simon follows. 

Luci's pulled Ty back to his feet. He looks exhausted, as well he should. I would be too, if I'd expelled so much power at once.

I take his face in my hands, smooth his sweaty hair back from his brow. He's looking at me with Simon's eyes, & there’s a flicker of fear in them at my touch. 

My brow furrows. “You alright, son?” I say. 

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, just thirsty.” 

I look from him to Luci, drop my hands from his face. “That was impressive,” I say, because it  _ was _ , even if it was rather odd. “And...you can’t do that at home? At school?” I don’t quite understand what they mean, about their magic being  _ different  _ here.

“No, we can,” Luci says. Simon comes up behind me & hands them both their shoes. (They took them off before they started.) Luci drops down to sit on a rock & put them on. She says, “It’s just...there’s something about this place. I don’t know that we’re  _ more powerful  _ here, not exactly.” She looks at Ty. He just shrugs. “For me it’s like my magic’s just  _ there _ .” Twin flames light in her palms & she snuffs them by curling her fingers. “More accessible than anywhere else. Does that make sense?” 

I think,  _ Not particularly.  _

I say, “Interesting.”

“Does  _ your  _ magic feel stronger here, Daddy?” she says. “I thought maybe it had something to do with being on ancestral ground.”

“Hm.” I light my own flame & put it back out. My magic feels the same as it’s always done. It’s there for me when I call it, but it’s not  _ different.  _ “That’s a good hypothesis,” I say, because it  _ is _ , even if it’s incorrect. “But no, to the best of my knowledge that wouldn’t make a difference.” I look at Simon & I know he’s thinking the same as me. I say, “The only time my magic’s ever felt more accessible, as you say, was when your dad shared his magic with me.” 

Luci looks at Simon, too, & I see the pain in her eyes. “Oh,” she says. 

I remember  _ that  _ conversation, many years ago. “ _ Why can’t Dad do magic, too _ ?” little Luci asked, & Simon smiled at her, his eyes soft, while I couldn’t help the old pain of feeling sorry for him. For what he’d lost. What he’d  _ given up. _ I picked Luci up, I remember, & said, “ _ Your dad has his own sort of magic, darling.”  _ And I told her how Simon was magic in the kitchen, how none of us could ever make a scone or a black pudding like he could. And then later we had to sit down with our children & tell a story about a boy who used his magic to save our world. How when they went to school in a few years, all the other kids would know their Dad’s name. 

Simon’s looking at me with soft eyes now. 

“Can we head back?” Ty says. “I’m  _ thirsty. _ ”

 

**LUCILLE**

 

I need to talk to Ty about what the  _ fuck  _ happened at the end of the song this morning, but Daddy’s insisted on figuring out my wraith problem & I can’t just come up with an excuse, can I? 

“You know, I’m not rightly sure we  _ can  _ banish the wraith,” he says as we climb the stairs to my room. “When I was your age, they were just  _ here _ .” 

“Right,” I say, but I’m not really listening. Ty cast a spell -  _ twice  _ \- while he was singing. And they weren’t, like, existing spells. What was it?  **Don’t let her fire sear my flesh and bone** ... **Give me sanctuary.** Bleeding hell, they were just song lyrics. Well, not just song lyrics, obviously. I’ve no idea what’s happening here. All I know is that before he let go of me, it felt like I could’ve caught fire. Literally gone up in smoke. His magic was burning in my fingers, my hands. It was  _ too much _ . And then it was just...gone. 

And then when we came back to the house, he got his water & he & Dad went outside to play footie as if my brother isn’t just making spells out of bloody nothing. As if he didn’t just light up like a bloody Roman candle on, I don’t know,  _ steroids.  _ Crowley. 

I keep thinking about them, those spells he cast. It’s like he used his own magic  _ against  _ his magic. Maybe he’s found a way to stop it.  **_Give me sanctuary…_ **

“Luce?” Daddy’s got an eyebrow quirked at me. 

We’re stood in front of my wardrobe, & honestly I can’t remember when we got here. The wraith’s rattling around in there, making a bloody racket. 

"Sorry,” I say. 

“Like I was saying, I’m not sure we  _ can  _ get rid of it, but what was it you suggested at breakfast earlier? We could try that, see what happens.” 

“Oh. Well, you know how the Normals go on & on about those old  _ Harry Potter _ books, right?”

“Oh, yes, I’m well aware.” 

_ I’ve  _ read them myself. I had to really suspend my disbelief to wrap my head around how the magic works in them, but I did enjoy them once I managed that. “Well,” I say. “There’s this spell in them, for getting rid of these things called boggarts. And I was thinking...if the Normals quote them so much, don’t you think there’d be enough power behind those words to make a spell?”

Daddy’s got his eyes narrowed at me. “What do you mean, the Normals quote them so much?”

“I think you’re underestimating how popular these books are, Daddy,” I say. “People, like, dress up as the characters & things, write stories. And they came out  _ ages  _ ago, so the Normals have been talking about them forever. Besides, haven’t  _ you  _ created spells from pop culture before? You’ve got that silencing spell, the one with the lyrics from ‘Rains of Castamere.’”

Now he’s quirking an eyebrow at me. “I  _ do _ ,” he says. “Though I can’t imagine how you know about it.”

I feel my face go pink. Ty & I overheard him casting, once, & I know it’s a spell he only uses when he & Dad want... _ alone time. _ Like last night. 

I try to push  _ that  _ thought out of my head. 

I say, “Anyway. It’s just an idea.”

“How long ago did these books come out, then?”

“The 1990s, sometime.”

Now he’s raising  _ both  _ eyebrows at me. “ _ Ages  _ ago, you say. You know your father & I were  _ born  _ in the ‘90s.” 

I smirk at him. “Yes,  _ ages ago. _ ” 

He huffs a laugh & rolls his eyes. “What’s the word, then? For these...what were they called again?”

“ _ Boggarts _ . They’re these sort of...I dunno, I guess they could be considered wraiths in their own right. They turn into your worst fear & you have to do the spell to get rid of them.” 

“Well, that’s something I’m glad doesn’t exist in our world.”

“Yeah,” I say, because that  _ would _ be terrifying. “The spell they use to get rid of them is  _ Riddikulus. _ ” 

“Pardon?”

“It’s weird.”

“‘Ridiculous?’”

“No,  _ Riddikulus _ . It’s. Maybe this is a silly idea.”

“No,” he says. “ _ But _ . Creating a spell’s advanced work. I know you & your brother have done your fair share already, mind you. But this is banishing another being, of sorts. Not freshening bad fruit. Though I do appreciate that avocado spell of Ty’s.” Ugh, right.  **Fre Sh A Voca Do.** (I’ll grudgingly admit that I  _ do  _ appreciate that spell, too, even though it’s ridiculous.)

I say, “Right, well. Could give it a shot, yeah?” 

"Absolutely, love. You never know until you try.” 

I take a deep breath & raise my hands. It’s how I cast, without a wand. (I try to be graceful about it, not just point at things. I feel silly, sometimes, but then Dad tells me about how he & Daddy went to school with a bloke who had a magic belt buckle & I feel much better about it.) 

I plant my feet & start to  _ push  _ in the direction of the rattling wardrobe. This probably won’t work - not on the first try - but if I get even a hint…

“ **_Riddikulus!_ ** ” 

The wraith  _ shrieks -  _ this awful noise that reminds me of the Nazgul from  _ The Lord of the Rings -  _ & Daddy covers his ears because his senses are better than other people’s & that probably just about blew his eardrums. 

When the screaming stops, the wraith’s still kicking around in the wardrobe.

“I think you’re onto something,” Daddy says, lowering his hands. “But maybe you should practice...elsewhere. Then we can try again later.”

I’ve a mind to bring Ty in here with me. If he could give me some of his magic...maybe the spell just needs a bit of a  _ kick.  _

Plus I need to talk to him about that crap he pulled in the forest earlier. 

“Yeah, I will,” I say. “D’you want to go play footie with Dad & Ty?” We may as well have fun while I try to sort out my problems - the wraith, Ty making up spells, Ty potentially blowing up. 

Daddy puts his arm around my shoulders. “Two on two. We’ll smoke they’re arses.” 

 

**TYRANNUS**

 

Dad & I beat Pops & Luci at football.

I take another shower, just because I’m sweaty this time. Not because I’m burning up. 

I haven’t been burning up since this morning, not since the forest. It’s been such a bloody  _ relief. _

When I get back to my room, Luci’s sat on my bed. I jump. “Fucking hell,” I say, & I’m glad I got dressed in the bathroom. 

She motions with her hand & the door closes. She doesn’t even need to say anything, sometimes, which I think is weird. I don’t think that’s  _ normal.  _ Not  _ Normal,  _ but. Normal for mages, like. I guess a lot of the shit we do isn’t quite...ordinary. Anyway.

“ _ What _ ,” she says, & it’s a quiet hiss, like she’s still afraid someone will overhear, “did you  _ do _ ?”

“What d’you mean?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Earlier. In the forest. You cast  _ spells _ , Ty. Spells that aren’t even spells.” Oh. Right.

I hop onto my bed & sit cross-legged in front of her. “Well I guess I made them into spells, didn’t I?” I say. 

“Yes, but were you  _ trying  _ to?”

“I dunno.” And I  _ don’t.  _ “I was singing, & it just  _ happened _ .”

She reaches over & feels my forehead. “You’re a little warm. Nothing too weird.”

“Well, yeah. I just took a hot shower.”  _ That  _ was nice, showering normally. I think this is the best I’ve felt since we’ve been here.

“Oh,” she says. “So what happened? When you cast?” 

“I’m not sure about the first time,” I say. I wonder if I would’ve felt something different, if Luci & I hadn’t still be holding onto each other. “But the second time - after I let go of you - it felt like...sort of like my magic was going down the drain, like. It wasn’t trying to burst out of me anymore. It all just got sucked back to where it’s supposed to be.” 

“And you don’t feel like I need to take any from you? It feels like it’s tamped down?” 

I shrug. “Yeah, it feels pretty normal.”

Luci starts biting the inside of her cheek; I can tell by the way her lips go all funny. “Do you think you’re using your magic  _ against  _ your magic?” she says. “Because that’s what it sounds like to me.”

“Maybe,” I say. “I tried that this morning, before breakfast. And it worked, sort of. I didn’t feel like I was going to explode, but I still felt like I needed to let some out, you know?”

“How’d you do that?”

“ **Cool off** .”

She thinks that over. “Probably not a strong enough spell for what we’re dealing with.”

“Right.” 

“ **Give me sanctuary…** ” she says. “ _ Those  _ are powerful words, Ty. It’s almost like you’ve cast a protection spell on yourself. Or maybe that’s exactly what it is, I don’t know.”

“Yeah. Like I said, it just all started to close back up inside me, after I said that. Cast it, I guess. Maybe it worked that way since I’d been thinking about it all morning. And all of yesterday.” 

“Maybe so,” she says. “That would make sense. Like you’d been thinking about trying to fix it so much that the thought was still floating around when you cast.”

“Yeah.” Well, things are starting to make more sense now, aren’t they? “D’you think it’ll work long-term?” I still feel pretty normal, but it’s only been a few hours. 

She raises her eyebrows & shakes her head. “No idea. In any case it gives us more time to figure out what’s going on, doesn’t it?” 

“I guess,” I say. Honestly I was just happy with the fact that I don’t feel like utter shit anymore, but of course that isn’t enough for Luci. 

She looks pensive for a minute before she swings her legs over the bed & stands up. “Will you come with me to my room? I think we can get rid of that wraith.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I just took my Harry Potter idea & ran with it *shrug*


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content ahead, y'all.

**SIMON**

 

The dead spots filled in gradually, & yet all at once.

Most of the magic was restored within nine months, give or take, and I remember clearly when Hampshire first filled in because the twins hadn't been born yet & Baz, Malcolm, & I went to scope it out. It was late December of 2026. Eleven years since I'd drained Hampshire of its magic.

I remember Oliver had wanted to come - he was only 12 or 13 at the time, probably trying to impress his dad. Malcolm made him stay in Yorkshire with the girls & Daphne while the three of us set out a few days after Christmas.

Penny & Micah met us there. They'd been helping Penny's dad research the dead spots (not so dead anymore), & it's not like I could've kept Penny away if I tried. It's not in her nature to stay away from something like that, something that needs an answer.

We walked the grounds & the house three times before Malcolm decided it _might_ be possible to move the family back, someday. He wasn't ready to uproot everyone, not if the magic wouldn't _stick._ But he & Daphne wanted to be closer to us, especially now that the twins were nearly here.

The place made me anxious, & I wasn’t completely sure why. Sometimes the not knowing is the worst part. (If you know what it is that’s bothering you, you’ve at least got something to work with.)

Everyone else - everyone who still had magic - could _feel_ it, the magic restored to the land, the atmosphere. All I could feel was the awful itch of anxiety.

I was anxious until Baz & I got up to his old room, at least.

The last time I’d been there was the night I’d asked him to be my boyfriend. It seemed so far away, & so close at the same time.

I sat myself down in front of the fireplace, & I remember just _staring_ into the grate. Thinking. _I wanted to stop thinking._

Everything was getting messed up in my head. I’d think of the good things, like kissing Baz right there where I was sitting, eleven years ago. And then the Humdrum showing up & attacking Baz, eleven years ago. And then all the magic being sucked out of Hampshire at once. Kissing Baz in front of the fireplace. Kissing Baz. _Baz_.

I don’t remember what it was he was doing - poking around in his empty wardrobe, maybe - but I just said, “ _Baz. Come sit on my face, would you?_ ”

And he said, “ _What_.”

And I said it again.

And he came over & stood in front of me, his arms crossed, raising that bloody eyebrow at me the way he does. Looking at me like I’d bloody well lost my mind. He said, “ _You want to give me_ anilingus _in my ancestral home?_ ”

I remember rolling my eyes. “Anilingus _. Really leaning on that doctorate, ain't ya? No,_ Dr Pitch _, I want to_ eat your arse _in your ancestral home_.”

In retrospect maybe I _was_ still anxious, because there’ve been periods of my life where I’ve used sex as a buffer, of sorts. My therapist used to say it was fine as long as Baz was okay with it, & as long as I still worked things out later. Baz never complained. With sex sometimes you just have to _feel_ , not _think._ And I didn’t want to think anymore. It was too much.

He said, “ _My father is downstairs_.”

“ _Your father knows his bloody way around a bedroom. How the fuck do you think he ended up with five kids? Besides, we're about to have two. I want to eat that arse while I've still got the energy_.”

I remember him pausing for a moment, & then he shrugged & said, “ _Fair enough_.” It’s never been difficult, getting Baz on board with a good shag. And we had one, right there on the floor.

When we got back downstairs, Penny was running some sort of magickal scanner on the grounds. She said something about the reading being stronger than it used to, before the magic got sucked out...or something like that. She said she could _feel_ it. Maybe I’m remembering that wrong, because Baz told Luci earlier today that _his_ magic’s not stronger here. And wouldn’t it be, if the magic _itself_ is stronger? Wouldn’t he be able to feel it?

Everything’s all twisted up in my head.

I say, “It's interesting, what Luci said earlier. About their magic being stronger here.” Baz & I are ready for bed (we’re _in_ bed, with all the bloody gargoyles), but I’m not tired. My eyes hurt; I’ve been scrolling aimlessly through my emails while I’ve been thinking about all this.

“Yes,” Baz says. He doesn’t look up from his mobile. “I'm still puzzling that one out.”

I set my mobile down & prop myself up on one elbow in his direction. “It reminded me,” I start. “Well, I was just thinking of that day we went back to Hampshire the first time.”

Baz turns his head & raises an eyebrow at me. “Were you?”

“Yeah.” I grin at him. “ _Not_ just about that bit.”

He sets his mobile down, too. “You know, I don't think I've been eaten out so well since,” he says, and I laugh. I'm not sure if it's a compliment or an insult.

“I was _thinking-,_ ” I start, but Baz cuts me off.

“Well,” he says, his lips quirking into a smile. “I'm glad you didn't hurt yourself.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I say. “I was thinking about what Penny said that day.”

“Remind me. I'm afraid I don't remember much about that afternoon besides the incredible rimjob & you fucking me into the carpet. I had to **Get well soon** my arse three times just to get rid of the rug burn.”

I start laughing. “You broke the bloody silencing spell & your dad thought it was the fucking wraiths.”

“And he will continue to think that until the day he dies, thank you.”

I put on my best impression of my father-in-law's posh accent. “‘Oh, Basilton, Simon, there you are. Did you _hear_ that _wailing_? I do believe the wraiths are still in the west wing.’”

Baz chuckles like he's trying not to.

“Anyway,” I say once I've caught my breath. “That day, I remember Penny saying something about the dead spots coming back stronger. More powerful sources of magic. Maybe I'm remembering it wrong, I dunno. I just thought that maybe that could have something to do with the kids’ magic being stronger here, yeah?”

“I don't know, love,” he says. “If that were true, then theoretically any mage's magic should be stronger here. I don't feel any more powerful than usual.” He sighs & takes off his reading glasses - black horn-rims. “Another mystery to add to the pile of mysteries that makes up our children, I'm afraid.”

I know it drives him mental, all the things that make our kids special. Sharing magic. Ty's fire. Being able to cast without pieces. Whatever the fuck happened out in the woods today. He just wants to _understand_ everything. That's what makes _Baz_ special. I've personally done enough mystery-solving to last a bloody lifetime. I just like sitting back & watching all of them be who they are, really. The three great loves of my life.

Still.

“Well,” I say. “D’you remember...I dunno, _feeling_ any different, that first time we came back? Did the magic feel different?”

He shrugs. “It might’ve done,” he says. “Maybe it’s been stronger all along, & I’ve just gotten used to it. Or maybe that’s how it works, when a dead spot’s filled. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, that sort of thing.”

“Hm.” Thinking about all this really is making my head hurt. I suppose it doesn’t really matter, in the end. It just is what it is. Maybe I’ll text Penny tomorrow, if I’m still thinking about it.

I take Baz’s glasses & his mobile from him & set them on the bedside table (also covered in gargoyles). “Tired?” I ask.

He quirks an eyebrow at me. I take him by the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I'll have more than just a short update. Today is not that day. *sighs*
> 
> Other notes - I've had to come up with names for Baz's siblings since we currently have no canon names. Oliver is his brother, the baby in _Carry On._ Yorkshire is also the "up north" I've decided the Grimms moved to, since at the end of the book Simon literally describes it as "up north" & that's all. I'm working on another fic at the moment centered around this home "up north" & I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to decide where that would be on this timeline. Yorkshire it is.


End file.
